


dirty fantasy

by arcanawildcard, clairelutra



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Studying, Vaginal Sex, body worship leanings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard/pseuds/arcanawildcard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: "Well... perhaps if there was a reward...?" She looked thoughtful, full mouth tucked into a pout. "Whatareyou fond of, Ryuji-kun?""Not books?" he offered weakly.She didn't seem to hear him."Manga... Soda... Training... None of those are especially exciting, I suppose." She leaned back in her own chair, frowning at her daintily folded hands, then straightened abruptly. "Girls!"Concerned friend Haru is helping her bored underclassman Ryuji study for finals, but it's not going too well. Maybe all he needs is the right...motivation.
Relationships: Okumura Haru/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 33
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted to the persona kink meme](https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=806369)

"You really need to be more motivated, Ryuji-kun!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji groaned, sprawled out in his seat. They were at the local library, and even a cute girl rooting for him couldn't kill the sheer boredom that came with all the _books._

Ryuji wasn't really a fan of books.

Haru drooped, then went on earnestly, "I-I understand that studying is quite difficult—why, I often have trouble myself—but at this rate, you'll need to take remedial courses."

He slumped a little further in his seat. "Tell me something I don't know, why don't ya."

"Well... perhaps if there was a reward...?" She looked thoughtful, full mouth tucked into a pout. "What _are_ you fond of, Ryuji-kun?"

"Not books?" he offered weakly.

She didn't seem to hear him.

"Manga... Soda... Training... None of those are especially exciting, I suppose." She leaned back in her own chair, frowning at her daintily folded hands, then straightened abruptly. "Girls!"

"Uhh," said Ryuji. "You gonna find me a date or somethin'...?"

Seemed counterproductive to studying, but he wasn't about to complain.

"I'm afraid that would be rather difficult," Haru said with an apologetic yet angelic smile.

"Wha— _hey!"_

She ignored his _deeply offended_ spluttering and went on, "Though I suppose I'm a girl too."

He was about to tell her he didn't need her damn pity when she turned those soulful, guileless brown eyes on him.

"Is there any reward I could offer that would motivate you, Ryuji-kun?"

"Uhh," said Ryuji. It was the only noise that could make its way through the goddamn _tsunami_ of filthy ideas that had just sprung up. His dick hadn't followed suit yet, but it was only a matter of time. Finding air in his lungs and a frog in his throat, he half-squeaked, "Sure. There— there are a lot."

She didn't look away, tilting her head in innocent curiosity. "Such as?"

"Uhh," he said again, because most of them involved some degree of nakedness and the ones that didn't were even worse. Somehow, saying any of them aloud didn't seem like a great idea while they were in a public space, deserted as it was.

(...Or private one either, 'cause Haru was an effin' _terror_ with an axe and Ryuji liked both his lower half and his life.)

Haru pressed her lips together in confusion and watched his face redden for several seconds, then said, "Oh! They're, ah, _those_ kinds of things, aren't they."

_Oh, shit._

But instead of reaching for the nearest weapon, she tapped those plump lips with two perfectly manicured fingers, a look of intense concentration on her face. "Really? With... me?"

She had the audacity to ask it while sitting there in that big fluffy sweater that teased at the hidden treasure within, cute stockings that clung skintight to _sexy_ legs, as elegant and refined as a princess and just as pretty.

"Um, _yeah?"_

"Oh," she said, and turned pink.

Not... the reaction he'd expected.

Haru hummed, eyes roving the empty room, blushing rosier and rosier as time went on, and Ryuji held his breath.

"I could..." She trailed off, flushed darker, then continued, "If you would find it motivating... perhaps if your grades improve... I could..."

"What, take off your top or somethin'?" A long shot, but if he was gonna live the dream...

She hesitated, long eyelashes fluttering, then nodded. "B-but only if you place much higher than you have. You'll need to really hit the books!"

He was now sitting bolt upright, the whole world shrunk down to Haru and her shapeless sweater and the mystery of what lied underneath. "Like how much higher?"

She bit her lip. "...F-... fifteen places."

"Deal," he said before she could change her mind, then grabbed his math textbook and pulled it over.

Had Ryuji said he wasn't a fan of books? That was a lie. Ryuji effin' _loved_ books. Books were his whole life now. Akira who? Books were Ryuji's _new best friend._

Across the table, Haru buried her face in her hands and sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someday i'm going to start writing odes to more modest bustlines, but today is not that day.

Two months of headaches, mumbling equations in his sleep, and weird looks from the rest of their friends all led to this.

He hadn't improved by fifteen places, no—he'd improved by _twenty eight._

"I am truly amazed at your progress, Ryuji-kun!" she praised. They were sitting across from each other at his table, all his messes hastily cleaned in preparation for her arrival. "You certainly were quite motivated!"

"Uh-huh," he said, distracted. That sweater hadn't budged an inch, and he was busy wondering how long he had to wait before it wouldn't be impolite to ask.

Not something he would have cared about before, but apparently spending time around a modern day princess had had its effects.

(Other things that had had their effects: spending two months around _Haru_ and all her kittenish expressions and earnest enthusiasm and occasional mischief and steely determination—classy cute in, like, _everything._ It was kinda amazing and _seriously_ hot.

The promise of seeing her without a shirt had only gotten more and more appealing as time went on, and it had started off pretty damn appealing.)

Now she was flushed again, cheeks reddening adorably. Voice small, she asked, "Was... was it my offer that..." then trailed off and giggled like she was laughing off the thought. "Ah, nev—"

"Yeah, it was," he cut in, and she abruptly stopped laughing. "Speaking of..."

"...R-right..." she mumbled, even shyer. Her face was approximately the shade of a fire engine now.

Cautiously, she wiggled back from the table and stood, so gracefully poised that it was impossible not to notice how dingy his room was in comparison (and how little she belonged here—that had been bothering him more and more lately and he _hated_ it).

(...Especially since his mom _adored_ her; she'd cried the first time he brought Haru over for a study session.)

But then her delicate fingers tugged at the top zipper tab of her sweater and every other thought in his mind snapped in half like an old rubber band.

Only a centimeter or two at first, but then she took a deep breath, invitingly glossy pink lips parted and then sealed again, slim throat working in a swallow—and kept pulling.

The shirt underneath was pretty boring as a shirt, but it clung tight enough to her chest and stomach that he couldn't look away. The depth of the shadow her surprisingly impressive chest cast over her ribs... the faintest hints of shadows under her hard nipples... the perfect dip of her tight, solid waist...

Then she let her sweater slide to the floor and reached for the bottom hem of the shirt, crossing her arms in a way that squished her boobs up and together—

And then she revealed the lowest strip of skin over her hips and the little bit of belly over her waistband, and Ryuji's mouth went bone-dry.

Creamy skin, imperfect skin, real and supple and _right there in front of him,_ slight tummy rolls that led up to a smooth waist and the butterfly of her ribs as she stretched, the pristine white lower edge of— of a _bra_ coming into view, followed by the lacy cups filled to the brim and digging into the load, the press of flesh making his mouth tingle and water at the thought of what it might feel like, _taste_ like on his tongue.

Her nipples were still peaked hard enough to see, and it wasn't just his mouth that was tingling.

He'd been horny before, but this was nothing like he'd ever felt. This wasn't like getting hot under the collar thinking about some chick he'd seen on the street. This wasn't like getting itchy and lonely thinking about sex. This was nothing like the jerking off on his lonesome thinking about— fuck. Haru. He's been thinking about her nonstop lately—both with and without his right hand down the front of his pants. 

Now that she was here, real, in the flesh and dropping her clothes on his bedroom floor...

This was like being fucking _starving_ except he wasn't hungry at all. All he wanted was _her._

"Oh! We never said h-how long, did we?" she stuttered, musical even in her awkwardness, and Ryuji only had enough good manners left to not immediately reach for his dick.

_Forever,_ he tried to say, but all that came out was a weird croak.

"Mm... how about five minutes?" she suggested.

Her stomach was working, fluttering, clenching and loosening, goosebumps forming over her arms and tits, and she kept fidgeting like she was going to cover herself and then changing her mind at the last second. Ryuji appreciated it. Covering up even a centimeter of her would be a goddamn _crime._

"...Erm, Ryuji-kun?"

"Gnuhhf," he said. He was starting to get lightheaded, but he couldn't tell if that was because he was forgetting how to breathe or if it was because there was officially more blood in his dick than there had ever been in his life.

"Ryuuuuuji-kun," she singsonged like she was talking to a cat or something. "Are you still in there?"

"Glnrk." _In what? Where?_

She sighed, her whole torso moving with the noise, shadows shifting sensually over her chest-stomach-hips. "I... I admit that it's rather satisfying to see you flustered, but m-must you really stare so much?"

He gulped the drool away and nodded dazedly, because ripping his eyes away now was unthinkable.

"...Oh." She pressed her fingertips together in front of her, which Ryuji would have protested if he could. Shifting from foot to foot until her blush started coloring her shoulders and the tops of her breasts (and _damn_ is that wasn't hot), she eventually broke the silence with a meek, "I... ah, well. I could... t-take off my bra too... if you... wanted..."

His lungs made a feeble attempt at contracting, then gave up.

"Not that I'd do this for just anyone!" she went on indignantly, like he'd even thought of suggesting it. "B-but... if it's you... maybe I don't mind... so much."

...This wet dream had a lot more feelings than usual. Usually the feelings came after, like when he woke up. The dip-swoop-flying-falling in his chest normally didn't translate well when he was unconscious.

He nodded numbly, because there wasn't really any other answer he could give, and then she was arching ( _ngh_ ) and stretching, sucking in her stomach and tightening her abdomen as the straps slid down her triceps ( _fffffuck_ ), and then there was a little _snap_ and the bra jolted and fell away and— and they _bounced_ and—

His mind went so blank it felt like someone had opened up a hole in his skull to allow all his brains to leak out.

"S-sorry if I'm a bit, ah, u-underwhelming—I know I have nothing on Ann's figure! But..."

"This is the best wet dream I've ever had," Ryuji croaked, giving into the urge to grind the heel of his hand against his regretfully clothed erection. 

He caught her bit lip and wobbly, delighted smile in his peripheral vision, and it was like a bucket of water.

Not cold water, just... cool, crystal clear realization that _this wasn't a dream._ Dream-Haru had never been real-Haru, had never had those little mannerisms or that sheer _cuteness,_ and _hooooooly shit..._

She really was standing in his bedroom, half-naked, the mystery of what lie beneath that giant sweater solved in the best possible way—with her pert, full, rose-tipped breasts on full display.

And frankly?

They were _perfect._

Haru's tits were a _work of art._

Ryuji wasn't really cultured or anything, but he knew that much.

"So, um... I'll sit, then." She waffled for a few seconds, taking a half-step towards the seat she'd been sitting in before, then changing her mind, hesitating, and then circling around the table so she could sit pretty _on the edge of his bed._

(Now if only he could get her to lie down on it...)

He tracked her progress across the whole thing, the bob and sway of her breasts, the way her abdomen worked as she walked, the way she grasped her elbow behind her back to make her spine arch so damn _perfectly_...

He hit his head on the bed frame trying to watch her through the whole thing, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when she was here and real and her whole torso was jiggling hypnotically in a giggle.

He wanted to _taste that_ so damn bad. Wanted to feel the plush constricted by her waistband between his teeth. Wanted to run his hands up her sides and feel where softness turned to firmness turned to bone. Wanted to get inside her slick heat as he checked for sure if those breasts felt just as good as they looked. Wanted to—

Suddenly, she leaned forward, the weight of her chest shifting invitingly and _gnffu_ —"Ryuji-kun, are you quite alright?"

That breathlessly playful tone and shy smile were saying something, something that Ryuji should probably care about, but now all he could think about was that she'd leaned close enough that those perfect tits were within very easy touching distance, and that he could have sworn her nipples just tightened again, and that there was absolutely _nothing_ stopping him from taking that tingling hand off his cock and—

_"Oh!"_

Soft. The curve of her breast was soft against his rough knuckles, his skin catching on the velvety smoothness of hers. Following it down, down, down led him to the tip, the nub firm and taut to the touch.

Just brushing it had her meeping, and giving it an experimental tweak got a _hnyah!_ as she jolted all over.

He scrambled around so he was sitting on his heels with a front row seat to the show and a perfect angle to participate kneeling beside the bed, then shifted his grip so he could carefully cup the whole breast.

He bit through a groan at the feeling while Haru let out a soft moan at the caress.

He got his other hand in on the action, one in each palm, all that plush, melting softness in his grip, body heat warm and _hot_ to the touch, and she arched into it, leaning forward and screwing up his bed sheets in clenched fists.

So, so, so many nights of just dreaming of this, dreaming of finding out what she was under all those layers, _actually_ finding out that she was a crafty little badass with the biggest heart he'd ever seen and dreaming all the more for it...

This was nothing like his dreams. This was _so much better._

He squeezed them both just hard enough to see the flesh bulge around his fingers ( _soft_ ), running his thumbs over the the swell and catching her nipples in the webbing of his thumbs and squeezing them too, her breathy yelp ringing in his ears.

He really, really, _really_ wanted to put his mouth on her.

So he did.

He let go with his left hand so he could brace himself on the bed, then rose up onto his knees and brushed his lips over that velvety skin, just to feel it, then lapped at it for a taste—salty and musky, like dried sweat and a burgeoning addiction—then lifted his chin so he could hone back in on that tight nub.

Suckling at it made her jerk so hard that it pulled free of his mouth entirely, her hands leaping up to clutch at his head as she cried out, but the way she was holding him to her chest made it easy to tilt his face and suck it back into his mouth.

He could barely hear her tremulous moan over how damn _good_ she tasted, the perfect _squish_ in his right hand and her nails pressing into his scalp.

He kept at that a while, enjoying the way she felt between his teeth, on his tongue, in his mouth—the noises and squirming and panting making it like a million times hotter than just her body alone, which was already _hot_ beyond his wildest dreams.

Like, seriously. How did she do that?

He switched sides because he just _had_ to know if they tasted the same (they did) and felt the same (they did) and were just as sensitive (they were), then let go altogether so he could explore her stomach.

It was just as _squish_ as her chest, but firmer, with muscle clenching against his nose when he buried his face there. Her hips were _stupid_ good for squeezing too, almost as good as her tits, and her skin tasted more like musk than salt here—less sweaty, though just as heated.

Biting one of those rolls (gently, remember to be _gentle_ because she was just so _soft_ ) made his mouth water at the sensation, the feeling of it, and he nibbled his way across, indulging. 

Blowing hot air into her bellybutton was a curiosity-driven impulse, and the result was a startled laugh, bubbly and sweet—experiment successful.

He couldn't get much farther than that with the angle he was stuck at, so he grabbed her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed, splaying her thighs and hooking her legs over his shoulders before putting his hands back on her hips.

From there, he kept traveling down—teething at the pudge and running his tongue in the crease underneath, resulting in more squirming giggles, nails carding through his hair—until he hit her waistband.

He tugged at it with his mouth, sulking, then remembered that that wasn't really a part of the deal and pressed his face into her skirt anyway.

She smelled, like, really _really good._ Like girly soap and girly musk and just... _girl._

And really, wasn't like there was anything stopping him from sliding his hands up her skirt, was there?

Testing the theory proved that there wasn't, just slim thighs and tights and— wait, no, this time they were stockings and... garters? And then smooth skin and then panties and—

It was another impulse to lay his hand flat on her stomach and to push her down until she was lying back, so her skirt would stay flipped when he pushed it up.

Ha.

Why take the waistband _off_ when you could just go _under?_

She squeaked and twitched at his solution to the problem, hips jumping when he targeted that strip of skin between the skirt and her panties.

After that, her underwear as less of an obstacle and more of a... _gentle suggestion,_ but nuzzling it down resulted in a lot more gasping-giggling-wriggling than he'd anticipated—ticklish?

He nipped at the skin, then blew a raspberry there, just to check, and got a loud shriek of a laugh for his trouble.

He lifted his head and grinned at her, and she pouted back—only to squeak when he turned his attention back to her lower abdomen. Her wriggling actually helped more than it hindered; all he had to do was hook his fingers in the leg holes of her panties and lap at her thigh creases and she wriggled right out of them for him.

And, really, what did she need them _at all_ for? He unclipped her garters and slid the panties off her legs, tossing them blindly to the side.

Access attained, he went back to kissing down, down, down over neatly trimmed, wiry pubes, down to the reddened cleft between flushed outer lips, slick lubrication wetting the fawny hair—

Her thighs were trembling now, a high _oh-oh-oh_ music to his ears as she moaned on every panting exhale. 

He let go of her hip with his right hand so he could pop the button on his jeans, reaching into his underwear and pumping his cock as he plunged his tongue into this newest buried treasure, groaning at both sensations while she gasped and cried out _loud._

Slick and hot. Everything inside was _slick_ and _hot,_ thick and sharp and savory and _human,_ folds of skin and a blush-heated nub up top...

She half-shrieked when he tongued it, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his hair as he explored it, trying to grind into his face when he sucked it, and oh _man._

This was pretty fun.

He did have to clamp his free arm down across her hips to keep her from moving around too much, but jerking off with her in his mouth was close enough to _sex_ that he knew he was about to set a personal landspeed record here.

And he was right about that, too. He came harder than he ever had in his _life,_ groaning long and loud into Haru as his balls tried to empty themselves against the heel of his hand, cum dripping down his fingers and onto the tatami.

Haru herself was stretched out, taut as a bow now, the muscles against his face shuddering in waves, her panting gasps and moans bouncing off his walls, and he kept licking her in a daze, half because he still wanted to (kinda surprising but he wasn't complaining), and half because it seemed rude to stop now.

He wiped his hand on his blanket (eh, whatever, it was laundry day tomorrow anyway), then pulled her into a more convenient position and devoted as much attention to eating her out as he had to spare through the afterglow.

She tensed and collapsed in slow rolls as he went, eventually pulling him off with a gutted noise when he was half hard again.

Rocking back and rubbing her juices off on his sleeve, he looked up.

Haru looked about as close to textbook 'fucked out' as you could get—all her porcelain-pale skin flushed dark pink, her chest heaving in panting breaths that fell from her open mouth, blank eyes and limp limbs and a motley collection of scattered hickeys, soft and pretty and even _softer_ now, somehow.

He didn't know how she did it, but he did know that there wasn't much he wanted to do more than to feel all of that under his mouth and hands all over again and there wasn't anything keeping him from it.

She tugged him up from her boobs when he got there, drunk on skin and sex, melting into his attention to her collarbones, the crook and column of her neck, her ear and the hollow behind it, then needily nuzzling into him, noses to cheeks and her hot breath just _begging_ for a—

She kissed him.

Wrapped her arms around his neck and reeled him in and kissed him, and it was an entirely different kind of amazing from kissing her _other_ set of lips.

Fizzy-bright, settling around his heart like a warm hug, lax and sweet and _affectionate._ Neither of them were especially experienced, but she didn't mind having her mouth explored in the same way he'd explored the rest of her—tongue and teeth and lips in every nook and cranny he could get to.

Unlike when he was exploring the rest of her, she nipped back, sucked and stroked his tongue when he traced her teeth, sighed deep and satisfied as she chased him and held his face where she wanted it.

Different from eating her out, but just as hot. Rutting restlessly into the molten cradle of her thighs had her mewling into the kiss, her legs around his hips and pulling him closer, harder, and it was impossible not to notice how the top of his dick kept sliding through slick flesh instead of the barrier of his underwear.

It was the worst—seriously, the _worst_ —kind of tease until she abruptly canted her hips on the upswing and he was suddenly halfway inside her.

That wasn't a tease. That was the real deal.

He'd thought it would be slick. He'd thought it would be hot.

He was both right and very, very wrong. 

Less 'slick' and more 'zero resistance.' Less 'hot' and more 'molten.' Adding in how stupid fucking _tight_ she was and how it felt like her body was trying to pull him in, and his vision was whiting out, something going _crack_ in his psyche.

He ended up all the way inside her not knowing how he got there and simultaneously feeling every damn millimeter, a deep groan in his chest and kittenish noises in his ear, and the faint thought that he needed to wait was firmly overwritten by the need to _thrust._

_"Nghah!"_ she yelped at the first, then _"Mnyep!"_ at the second, then _"Ah-ah-ah_..." at the rest, relaxing and then tightening again, the textured walls of her pussy _milking_ him every time he pulled back.

It was fire and lightning and shockwaves of ecstasy reverberating in his bones, the kind of warmth that had been in that kiss except multiplied by hundreds, sweat beading up on her skin and wicked away by his clothing, muscles worked up to the edge of overheating—

Between all of that, he was pretty impressed with himself for lasting as long as he did in the end, even if that wasn't long at all, high on friction and _wet_ and _holy fuck tight_ and _oh._

Haru.

He felt himself hit and pass the breaking point, getting a couple of last frantic thrusts before pulling out entirely and coming _hard_ over her stomach and chest, relief as powerful as the pleasure, stars flashing behind his eyes.

He collapsed next to her, feeling the burn of a good workout in every muscle, and maybe-melted when Haru nuzzled her way into another kiss. And another.

And another.

And some more after that.

"Man," he rasped after a while, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you planned that."

She froze mid-kiss.

He blinked, then lifted his heavy head to get a better look at her. "...What, seriously?"

The fading afterglow-blush was returning with a vengeance and she was refusing to look at him. "W-well, 'planned' is a bit... It was a-a gamble, really." Her eyes roved his ceiling. "I was going to offer initially, but then you said something about my shirt and I just couldn't figure out how to bring it up after that."

Ryuji opened his mouth to say something, pulled a blank. and shut it again.

"But we ended up here in the end," she said with shaky yet enviable confidence. "So—"

"Wait-wait-wait," he cut in, brain belatedly catching up with him, "you were gonna... _offer?"_

Her grimacing tomato-red face answered that question for him.

"But.... why?"

She threw him a startled glance, blinked, then focused in on the ceiling again, eyes distant. "Well, at first it was because I thought that that was the only thing I could offer that would motivate you, and then... we started spending more time together, and I... didn't think I'd mind so much, if it was you. And I didn't." She tried to laugh, but it shook too much to sound real. The wonder in her next words did, though—"I... I didn't expect it to feel like this. I didn't expect it to _be_ like this. You didn't even let me return the favor!"

"Oh," he said stupidly. "Well... did ya want to?"

A hesitation that stretched out to an eternity, and then she nodded, an even brighter shade of red than before.

...Oh.

_That_ was a thought that was going to stick with him a long while—unless it became a reality; then it would stick around a lot longer.

Right. So they'd just put that aside for now. He had something a little more important to ask anyway.

"So... uh." Her fingers were already entangled in his, so he gave them a squeeze. "Does this make us a, uh... thing?"

_That_ got her to look at him—with an _are you stupid?_ expression that was actually... pretty rare from Haru. Weird.

"Well," she said with not a little bit of asperity, "I _would_ hope so."

Ryuji let that sink in for a few seconds.

Haru. His.

Him. Haru's.

He pumped both fists in the air, taking her dainty little hand along for the ride. "Aw _hell_ yeah."

She yelped and giggled and responded with only warmth when he rolled her under him in a half-tackle. 

"R-rh..." she stuttered against his lips. "Remember th-that you still need to choose a coll— _ah-yah!"_

"Yours," he said immediately, taking his mouth off where he'd just latched it to her nape. "I'm goin' to yours."

"Oh, but— it's rather— th-the entrance exams—"

"I got 'em," he said, and he meant it. He squeezed her close, wrapped her all up, and got a little thrill out of how well she fit in his arms. "Got all the motivation I need."

Haru buried her face in her hands, but she was beaming like sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic really should have been called 'motivation' huh


End file.
